"My orbit has become narrower and narrower . . . somewhat as the ball at
the gaming-table runs round in smaller and smaller circles ... and then
finally flops down and settles comfortably into the predestined resting
place." When he wrote these lines George Santayana was close to 80, and
he had been comfortably lodged in his predestined resting place, Rome,
for some two decades. In My Host the World the posthumously published
third and final volume of his autobiography...